


Tiger Child

by soddingwankers



Category: Morning Glories
Genre: Baby truants, M/M, Oblivious Hisao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soddingwankers/pseuds/soddingwankers





	Tiger Child

Guillaume sat on the edge of the desert, toeing sand over his sneakers and slowly beginning to sunburn. Sulking was less effective in the desert, when it was nearly always sunny and the outdoors seldom matched a dismal mood. He was cradling half a sandwich (uneaten, and slowly becoming crunchy as the midday wind blew stray grains of sand over and into it), lower lip pressed firmly into upper as he glared at the offending combination of food before him.

He’d seen Hisao chasing after Irina as class let out for the morning, stupid lanky kid arms and legs flailing all of the place as he bounced around her, begging for defense tips and hopelessly swooning as she punched him out of her way.

Stupid kid. He just made himself look dumb like that, trying to make her like him. It wasn’t. Going. To happen.

Scrunching his eyebrows back down as he felt his sulk begin to slip, Guillaume stretched the sandwich out above his head, preparing to throw it out into the wasteland.  
“HEY GUILLAUME!” he heard screamed from far off, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”  
  
Quickly dropping the sandwich into his lap he hunched over and ignored the racket approaching from behind.  
  
Guillaume pretended not to listen as a steady babble of one-sided conversation approached and flopped down into the sand beside him. “What is your problem today, sheesh, Guillaume, I know you could hear me, I was screaming at you! Why are you out here? Weren’t we gonna—”  
  
Guillaume finally turned his head with a glare. “Shut up, okay!?”  
  
Hisao fell silent, wilting quietly, lips still parted in a soft O.  
  
Aw, shit. Guillaume huffed a sigh. “Here. I got this for you…thought you’d be hungry.” He thrust the sandwich into Hisao’s chest, who looked up, startled. “Well, take it! What are you, stupid?”  
  
Hisao was a strange pink color for someone who didn’t burn in the sun. “Uh— um, uh, thanks. Thanks, Guillaume,” he stuttered out, still with a baffled look on his face as Guillaume stood and roughly rid himself of sand, shoving Hisao’s head more gently than he ought to as he took off back toward the row of low buildings wavering in the desert heat. He tried not to remember how soft Hisao’s hair felt as he left him sitting at the edge of the desert, nibbling a mildly crunchy sandwich with a small smile on his face.


End file.
